


Cat Fight Club

by dark_pookha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Other, cat fight club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_pookha/pseuds/dark_pookha
Summary: McGonagall hosts a Cat Fight Club in the Room of Requirement. Inspired by a tumblr post by ababelofprose.





	Cat Fight Club

The first day of students returning to Hogwarts had wound down and now the castle seemed to take a breath and gather itself. A torch guttered in the abandoned hallway as a small, female, silver tabby with black spectacle markings walked nonchalantly down it. She walked almost to the end of the hallway, then turned around and walked back. She paused at the far end and looked down the crossing hallway before she walked back across the same bare patch of wall again. As she did, a small cat-flap appeared in the wall and she ducked under it quickly.  
  
The other side was a resplendent cat paradise. Soft pillows lined the floor and there were tall, carpeted towers to climb on with legs lined in sisal to scratch on. A pipe came out of the wall and fresh water gurgled out of it into a small pool. Roasted chicken and kibble sat aromatically in small dishes along a far wall. There were dangling strings hanging from the ceiling; buzzing, flying golden spheres; and all manner of cat toys strewn about on the floor. There was even a hamster ball big enough for a large cat to get in and roll around in. The spectacled tabby surveyed the scene with her luminescent green eyes before she walked up to a small patch of grass growing in a large square container. She jumped into the container and rubbed her cheeks on the grass, then rolled around on it. She stopped once when a small sound came from the cat flap, but when nothing else happened, she flipped upright and stalked majestically to the tallest cat tower and climbed it in a series of small leaps.  
  
A few minutes later, as she was cleaning a foreleg, a large orange male cat with a flat face came cautiously through the cat flap. He walked the perimeter of the room, sniffing everything and occasionally stopping to mark a place with his cheeks. He sniffed at the grass where the tabby had been rolling around a few minutes before and then lifted his head, opened his mouth slightly, baring fangs and a surprisingly long pink tongue for such a flat-faced cat. He sniffed, turning his head, and his ears swiveled to catch any sounds.  
  
“Mew!” the tabby on the tower said. The orange cat finally saw her and made his way up the tower. When he’d reached the platform just under hers, he raised his face and put his nose up near hers. She lowered her face to his they sniffed each other thoroughly, then they marked each other in a friendly manner. She moved over and the big male jumped up next to her and they lay down with backs pressing against each other.  
  
One by one, other cats came through the cat flap, did their explorations and then mounted the cat tower to sniff and be sniffed by the big orange tom and the spectacled tabby. Even though she was smaller than all but two of the cats, none of the others challenged her for her spot on the tall tower. The only cat that tried to challenge the orange male was a scrawny, dust-colored cat with yellow lamp-like eyes. When she tried to jump onto the tallest tower with the tabby and the tom, he pushed the dust-colored cat down repressively with a large paw. She arched her back and hissed at him, but he just yawned, showing his fangs and she backed off, down to the next lower platform. Occasionally, she glowered at him and seemed on the verge of trying to move back up, but she never did.  
  
A striped Maine Coon, that looked nothing less than a miniature lynx, had jumped into the hamster ball and was rolling around in it, terrorizing the other cats who scrambled hissing out of its way, except for one black cat with white mittens on her paws who moved too slowly and got her tail run over. She leapt to her feet and chased the hamster ball with the Maine Coon in it. He tried to stop, but she added her momentum to his and pushed the ball with him in it into the pool. He flailed, trying to get out of the ball and trying to get out of the water at the same time. The mittened cat sat calmly on the side of the pool, licking her injured tail. When the Maine Coon finally extricated himself from the ball and the pool, she lifted a mittened paw and swatted him delicately on the nose. A chase ensued, but all could tell it was more playful than serious.  
  
A moment later, the spectacled tabby atop the tallest tower warbled a long, shrill meow. All the cats stopped what they were doing and looked up at her. She lifted a delicate, striped paw and turned her muzzle to the large orange tom next to her. He stretched and stood up, then made his way down the tower to the center of the room, where he flopped over and started to clean his butthole.  
  
The grey, dust-colored cat with the lamp-like eyes seemed to take offense at this and she moved to sit in front of him. He ignored her. She stretched out and started cleaning her butthole, too. He stopped and glared at her. She continued blithely on, until he rose and jumped on her head. There was yowling and howling, and paw strikes so fast from both of them that the onlooking cats could barely track them. They grey cat put her claws out, and the tabby on the tower yowled warningly. The grey cat retracted her claws and went back to swatting without claws. She was clearly getting the worst of it, as the male orange cat had a size advantage and his strikes seemed to be starting to disorient her. He finally landed a strike on her back right leg that sent her sprawling and then jumped on her. He put his mouth over her neck and bit down, but did not break her skin, he merely held on and then raked at her with all four paws, but with his claws in.  
  
The tabby on the tower yowled again and the pair broke off. The grey cat stood up, and stalked off to the pool in the corner, looking back resentfully at the orange tom. He sat down, cleaning his fur by licking a paw, then running the paw over himself, starting at his head and then moving down his body.   
  
The mittened cat approached him, and he sat up. She twined around him and they circled each other, sniffing at the others rear end. Finally, she stopped and sat down. He sat down directly across from her and they stared each other down. She broke the stare first and looked away. When she did, he cuffed her lightly across the head with a large paw. She lay down and exposed her belly. He knew better than to take that invitation; it was a trap to be mauled in. Instead, he sidled around her quickly and swatted her head: once, twice, thrice, and then she was running to a short tower, where she leapt up, displacing an elegant Persian.  
  
He took on a few more challengers, but they all walked away stunned or beaten. He then sat in the middle of the room for a couple of minutes and when no more challengers came, he went to the food bowls, ate some of the chicken, pushed the still-bobbing hamster ball out of the water and had a drink. He then climbed back up to the top platform where he sat next to the spectacled tabby again.  
  
After that, there were several good bouts, with the mittened cat taking seeming especially eager to show her worth. She took on three challengers before finally succumbing in a protracted bout against a slightly smaller, but much quicker Himalayan. Several times she thought she’d swatted him a good one, but she’d only hit his fluffy fur. He peppered her sides and face with blows while she spun hissing. She finally lost control and bit him on an ear, drawing blood. The spectacled tabby hissed warningly and leapt from tower directly into the center of the room. As she landed, she transformed into a severe-looking tall woman. She gingerly grabbed the mittened cat and lifted her to her face.  
  
“Now, Mittens,” she said in a Scottish accent. “You know that teeth and claws are not permitted.”  
  
She sat the cat down and the cat flattened her ears and stalked off with her tail down to sit on the grass.  
  
The woman picked up the small Himalayan, pulled her wand from her pocket and touched it to the cat’s ear while saying something. The bites healed over, leaving only a small nick in his ear. When she sat him back down, he marched over proudly to another fluffy brown and white Himalayan and sat down next to him. The other Himalayan cat leaned over and began cleaning the victor’s ears. He sat there with a satisfied expression.  
  
“We’ve only got time for one more fight tonight. I’m going to duel Crookshanks and then we’ll be done. We’ll meet again in two weeks time. Smell for the scent markings around the castle, watch the angle of the moon, and you’ll know when.” She transformed back into the spectacled tabby again and the large, flat-face male came off the tower again to the center of the room.  
  
As soon as he had reached the middle of the room, she swatted him once, twice, three times on the nose. Her strikes came one after the other and before he had a chance to retaliate, she had already flanked him and swatted the base of his tail. He spun, much more quickly than a cat of his size should have been able to and hooked a paw behind her right front paw. She leapt away backwards, arching her back and hissing. Before she landed, he’d rushed forward and smacked her out of the air. She landed heavily on two paws, but the other two crashed to the ground. He dealt her a crushing blow to the head with a huge paw and then laid his teeth on her neck. She backed away when he released her and she flowed back into her human form, a large welt beginning to form under her eye.  
  
She bowed deeply to him. “Well done, Crookshanks. I can’t imagine any who could stand against you here.”  
  
The cats filed out of the cat flap in ones and twos. Crookshanks left just before the woman changed back into a cat. She looked around the room fondly and then ambled out, limping slightly.  
  
The next day as Harry walked into class, he stopped dead.  
  
“Professor McGonagall, are you okay?” he asked, noticing her black eye.  
  
“I’m well, Potter, why do you ask?”  
  
He pointed to her eye.  
  
“I had a spell backfire,” she said severely, ushering in the other students. “This is why you must practice.”


End file.
